Thursday, April 28, 2011

I May Have Shingles - A Self Diagnosis *Update*

Today's post is dedicated to my friend Kevin Levling because today is his birthday.


You know how sometimes you just wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if you have Shingles? (Come on, admit it, you've laid there wondering.) Well last night was one of those nights for me. So I finally got out of bed to find out.

I did this by turning on my computer and typing in "Shingles."  I now know everything there is to know about Shingles including it's orgin, date of birth and mother's maiden name. I also have a sneaking suspision that I will be having a full blown episode of it in the next few days. But in an effort to save money, I am refusing medical treatment until the actual rash appears and renders me helpless.

Our current medical insurance plan is about as useful as our Directv dish during a light rain (Searching for signal.... Searching for signal...blank screen....oblivion...) It's there but it doesn't really do anything. So no matter what, we end up selling kidneys and plasma and liver pieces to cover the difference that our helpless insurance refuses to pay.

Which brings me back to my impending doom. If I go to the doctor today (although I will not likely get in because they're always too busy to fit in medical emergencies like an outbreak of Shingles) she will look at me with a blank stare and ask me why I'm there. When I explain that my left shoulderblade and under-boob is itchy and sometimes feels funny like it's covered in Vicks Vapor Rub but has no visible signs of rash yet and I think it might be Shingles, she will give me an unimpressed look and send me home. But not before paying my billion dollar co-pay.

Then in three days, when the Shingles actually manifests itself and I am a red and pus covered rashy mess, I will have to go back and point to it and say SEE??!! And then I will have to not only pay another co-pay, I will probably be sent for "tests" just to make sure it's not really red magic marker.

The tests will not be covered by my pathetic insurance and when I've finally recovered from the Shingles I will be sent a bill asking for my first born son or daughter. This is why I haven't had them yet. As soon as I get pregnant, Capital Blue Cross is going to swoop down out of the sky and demand payment from the time Husband got a concussion from fixing clocks- but that's a whole other story, I won't get into it right now. So I'm avoiding having to forfeit my unborn future children. And I'll probably need to have a whole litter of them just to pay off the maternity bill.

So in the meantime, until my rash breaks out I'm considering doing a Marianna's Hoagie Sale Fundraiser to pay for my upcoming medical expenses. I mentioned it on Facebook and lots of my friends un-selfishly ordered a fake hoagie on my behalf, Italian being the most popular. I also plan on enjoying the Shingles to the fullest, since I will be considered a contagious menace to anyone who has never had chicken pox and I will have to seclude myself to prevent spreading the awfulness around, although the little anarchist in me wants to go skipping through public places in a spaghetti top shirt and bump into people on purpose. (KELLY CHRISTINE!)  I know, it's wrong.  Welcome to My Psychosis.

PS. Wrote this little diddy the other day:

Shingles (to the tune of “Folsom Prison Blues” by Johnny Cash)
by Kelly C. Baker

I know I’m gettin’ Shingles
They’re comin’ round the bend
I know I’m gettin’ Shingles
I – just don’t know when…

I know I’m gettin’ Shingles
Gonna itch and burn
Yeah it’s gonna be unpleasant,
It must be my turn.

My back’s already itchy
But still I have no rash
I reach around to scratch it,
Relief don’t last
I’m gonna get the Shingles
I know it ain’t no fun
Right now I’m not contagious
I can’t hurt no one.

But when that rash breaks out upon me
I’ll stay inside my box,
Cause then I’ll be contagious
If you ain’t had chickenpox.
But if you’ve done had it,
You can come visit me,
Yeah, if you come an visit,
Bring me some Ritchey’s Tea.

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